<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>through the cracked mirror by furchte_die_schildkrote</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724208">through the cracked mirror</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/pseuds/furchte_die_schildkrote'>furchte_die_schildkrote</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Bondage, Choking, Extra Treat, Finger Sucking, M/M, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Selfcest, Selfcest - Being overpowered by alternate self, Stranger!Tim, implications of future Tim/Elias, mentions of Tim/Danny feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:46:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/pseuds/furchte_die_schildkrote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While staking out the wax museum, Tim is captured by something wearing his face, speaking with his voice. It wants to have some fun with Tim.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Stoker/Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Smut 4 Smut 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>through the cracked mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/gifts">spacehopper</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope you enjoy, spacehopper! :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Time to wake up, Tim,” a disquietingly familiar voice whispered into Tim’s ear.</p><p>Tim startled awake. The last thing he remembered was watching the wax museum from across the street, and now here he was—gagged, blindfolded, and pinned naked to the floor. His head ached, and his wrists were tied above his head. The cold blade of a pocketknife pressed against the skin of his throat.</p><p>“Don’t struggle. I might slip,” the voice said. It was his own voice, Tim realized with dread. </p><p>The knife still pressed to his throat, Tim felt a hand tugging at his blindfold until it fell away. Tim’s stomach dropped at what he saw. Straddling his hips sat someone—some<em> thing </em> —horrifying, monstrous, and <em> wrong </em>. Something that wore Tim’s face. Looking into its dark, glassy eyes, Tim's heart raced. He screamed against his gag even as the sound was too muffled to matter and the vibrations in his throat only made him more aware of the knife pressing against his skin. His eyes darted around what appeared to be a nearly empty storeroom, assessing his surroundings for anything that might help, but there was nothing.</p><p>“Someone has been very naughty,” the thing said in a sing-song voice. “Sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”</p><p>The thing traced the knife down Tim’s chest, pressing hard enough to draw blood. Its eyes lit up in predatory delight as droplets of blood ran down Tim’s chest.</p><p>“Look at you. Still a real boy.”</p><p>Tim thrashed under the thing’s weight, screaming in vain. He was not going to die like this. The thing tossed the knife aside, and tenderly cupped Tim’s face with its hand, the skin feeling profoundly <em> wrong </em>.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” it said, smiling warmly. “I won’t peel you. Nikola gets that treat. And trust me—speaking from experience—you need that skilled hand of hers. I made messy work for her, thrashing around, screaming bloody murder.”</p><p>The thing had the nerve to laugh at its own shitty joke as it unbuttoned and opened its shirt. Tim’s skin crawled as it revealed seams and sutures etched along its chest, connecting a patchwork assembly of polished leather and what Tim recognized with sickening familiarity as his own worm-marked skin. </p><p>“Even so, she did what she could. She managed to salvage some of my skin. My voice-box. My memories. Not the eyes, though. Too much baggage there. She rebuilt me. She gave me purpose. She gave me a new god. And that god gave me you.”</p><p>It ground its hips down along the length of Tim’s cock, and Tim felt himself begin to harden.</p><p>“Oh, Tim. You have no <em> idea </em> how happy I am to see you,” the thing said with a too-wide grin. “When our ritual fell apart, I was so lost. You know what that’s like, don’t you? Then I heard my master’s song, and imagine my surprise when it led me to a whole new Circus, the same and different from the one I knew.” </p><p>It let its hands wander down Tim’s chest, exploring every inch of his skin with chilling intensity.</p><p>“And imagine my surprise when I looked across the street to see <em> me</em>. Snooping on the sidewalk, trying to be discreet,” it rolled its eyes condescendingly at him, as if it were lightly scolding a pet.</p><p>Tim fought to remain still as the thing traced teasing circles around his nipple with its leathery fingers. </p><p>“I almost forgot how sensitive these used to be,” it said, rubbing them even harder. “We are going to have fun.”</p><p>Tim winced and bucked as the thing pinched his nipple hard.</p><p>“Oh! You like that, don’t you?”</p><p>Tim whined against the gag filling his mouth. </p><p>“Sorry? I didn’t catch that," it said, with a look of smug satisfaction.</p><p>Tim glared at the thing wearing his face.</p><p>It wrapped its fingers around his throat so tightly he could barely make a sound. Tim tried in vain to gasp for breath as stars appeared in his vision. It let go for a moment, its head tilted to the side like a curious cat playing with its prey. </p><p>“You turn such a pretty color when you can’t breath,” it said teasingly. “I remember loving this when I was like you. Do you love it now?”</p><p>It closed its hands again. Over and over, it tightened its hands around Tim’s throat until he could feel himself dancing on the edge of unconsciousness before loosening its grip just long enough for Tim to take a few desperate breaths, only to repeat the whole game again. Tim lost count of how many times it toyed with him this way, its too-firm hands pressed tight against the pulse racing in his throat. As the assault continued, Tim’s mind narrowed. The primal need to breathe replaced his every thought. When it finally let its hands leave Tim’s throat, all he could do was gasp desperately at the air through his gag, no energy left for fighting or screaming. </p><p>It removed its shirt to reveal the full extent of the sutures and seams that ran along its skin. Tim’s eyes fixed on the jagged edges where the pieces met. The thing caught his gaze with a knowing smile.</p><p>“You’re wondering how much it hurts,” it said, tilting its head back in pleasure as it ran its fingers along the length of the seams. “It’s agony. Agony until it becomes ecstasy. And when it is over and done, you feel something you haven’t felt in <em> years </em>. Joy. Tell me, Tim. How long has it been since you felt happy?”</p><p>Tim stared on helplessly, dizzy and exhausted.</p><p>“You get to see Danny again,” it said, a wistful, teasing tone creeping into its voice.</p><p>Tim perked up, in spite of himself.</p><p>“A fire eater has his eyes. A clown has his voice. His skin gets passed around for the most part, but Nikola—generous woman that she is—gave me this,” it said, pointing to a patch of skin sewn across its palm. Disgust and rage tore through Tim as he realized its tone was slightly off from the other skin in an achingly familiar way. Tim shouted against the gag, pulling against his binds and thrashing under the creature’s weight, all while it laughed with empty warmth.</p><p>“Don’t make such a fuss. I’ll make sure you have fun too,” it said.</p><p>It moved to kneel between Tim’s thighs, forcing his legs apart as it wrapped the hand around his cock.</p><p>“You always dreamed of Danny touching you like this, didn’t you? His hand around your cock, taking you deep into his mouth,” it said as Tim glared on, wanting nothing more than to reach forward and rip the its fucking throat out, tear its voice-box right out so Tim would never have to hear his own voice coming out of its lips ever again. But all he could do was pull helplessly at his binds as it pumped the hand with Danny’s skin up and down his cock. </p><p>Tim’s back arched and his breath quickened as an aching need built up inside him. The sickeningly warm tension strung tighter and tighter as Tim tried to hold back. He willed himself to fight against the mounting pleasure as its hand moved faster and rougher until—</p><p>The thing let go, leaving Tim rutting instinctively against the empty air, so close to the edge. </p><p>“Eager, are we?” it teased.</p><p>A needy whine escaped Tim’s mouth as he stewed in helpless desperation.</p><p>“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time to take care of that,” it laughed, drawing a yelp from Tim as he gav a firm squeeze to his oversensitive cock before moving up to straddle his chest. </p><p>It reached behind Tim’s head and untied the gag, letting Tim scream as loud as he could manage, still breathless from arousal.</p><p>“Scream all you want,” it cooed. “No one will hear you.”</p><p>It pushed its fingers into his mouth—cooler than fingers should be, with the taste and texture of leather gloves. Tim bit down with all his strength, but the thing did not even flinch.</p><p>“Suck,” it ordered as it reached to grab the pocketknife with its free hand. “Right now, I think you’ll be more alive. Don’t make me change my mind. Why don’t you show me what you would do if you had my cock in your mouth?”</p><p>It pressed the blade of the knife against Tim’s skin.</p><p>“Now.”</p><p>Tim sucked, his mouth watering around the intrusion. He worked his tongue around the fingers as they began to thrust in and out of his mouth. Tim moaned softly around the fingers, still aroused enough that the weight filling his mouth felt impossibly good, and he found himself following their movement with his head. </p><p>Tim hated how he had to force back a pathetic little whimper when the thing finally pulled its fingers away and shifted back down to kneel between Tim’s legs. </p><p>“I told you I would make it good for you,” it said, before taking Tim’s cock into its mouth.</p><p>The feeling of its engulfing Tim made his head roll back in pleasure. The cool, inanimate wetness of its mouth made Tim’s stomach drop, but none of that mattered as it sucked gently at him, working its tongue around the head of his cock. Tim thrashed his hips as he tried to move away as the touch, desperate to stop the onslaught of sensation, but that only pushed him deeper until it held his hips in place with its free hand, fingers digging into Tim’s skin. He had no choice but to endure as it took him deep into its mouth, watching curiously as it drew pained noises from him. </p><p>As it worked its head up and down the length of his cock, Tim felt a pair of spit-slick fingers pressing against his entrance—teasing at first, before pushing inside with shamefully little resistance. Tim wished he still had a gag in as a loud moan was pulled ragged from his throat.</p><p>It thrust its fingers in and out of him, matching its own pace as it bobbed its head up and down Tim’s cock. Another finger slipped inside him, stretching him even further. Tim hated how good it felt as the onslaught of pleasure continued, each movement expertly tailored to his every taste. As he felt the heat of arousal washing over him, he wanted nothing more than to pull his hand free, grab the knife lying just a few inches off to his side, and stab the creature—in the heart? The neck? The head? Fuck if Tim knew. Wherever it would hurt most. </p><p>Tim felt the tension building once again, and the thing doubled its efforts, bobbing its head and fucking him roughly on its fingers until finally he came, spilling inside the things mouth as it swallowed around him. It teased Tim’s oversensitive cock with its tongue as he softened inside its mouth until it finally pulled away, grinning as Tim went slack.</p><p>“You know, I can almost remember what that tastes like,” it said, licking its lips. Tim’s skin crawled at the reminder of how inhuman this creature was, and what it used to be.</p><p>As Tim buzzed in the reluctant afterglow of his orgasm, he barely registered how the thing that wore his face unzipped its trousers and spit on its hand to slick up its own cock—not until Tim felt the blunt pressure against his hole, pulling him back to the present. He tried to pull away, but even without the binds holding him in place, he barely had energy left to resist. Tim’s nerves all danced with overwhelming sensation as it pushed inside him at a slow but unrelenting pace. Tim squirmed under the thing’s touch as it lifted his hips, angling him as it thrust in as deeply as it could manage. It was too much, too little prep and too little lubricant, all so soon after Tim’s climax. </p><p>It fucked Tim brutally all while he tried weakly to fight, pulling at the rope binding his wrists with what little strength he had let. An electric buzz ran through him with every touch. Its fingers dug into his hips bruisingly tight as it pulled him into every thrust, burying itself in him to the root. The sensation overwhelmed all of Tim’s senses until all he could do what.</p><p>By the time it came, spilling something unsettlingly cool inside of him, Tim was left a writhing ball of nerves, his face wet with tears even though he did not remember crying. His head spun, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears at a frightening pace.</p><p>“See, Tim?” it said with an empty grin. “I told you you would have a good time.”</p><p>As it left, Tim felt something prodding at his mind—a boxcutter sharp enough for the ropes sat in a box just to his right. This scrap of knowledge was followed by the understanding he had just under twenty minutes before the thing would return with Nikola to peel him, along with a series of directions that would guide Tim out of the warehouse and into the nearest tunnel unseen. </p><p>Even as a desperate relief washed over him at the realization he was not going to die like this, Tim felt a simmering rage. <em> Of course </em> he had been watched. </p><p>“Enjoyed the show, did you?” Tim asked bitterly, knowing that Elias or the Eye or whatever was watching would hear. </p><p>The image of Tim moaning as the thing fucked him open filled his mind, along with the understanding that payment would be expected for his rescue.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Tim spat, even as he began to maneuver himself towards the box, wincing in pain. As much as he loathed accepting Elias’s help, he hated the idea of letting the Circus beat him even more.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>